


Bleeding Guaranteed

by JustJasper



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abortion, Canon Trans Character, Discussion of Abortion, Gen, Humor, Medical Examination, Post-Canon, Pregnant Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5012215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contraceptives and abortifacients are something of a speciality Stitches has developed, playing medic to a rowdy – and horny – company of fifty plus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Guaranteed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [prompt on the kink meme](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15060.html?thread=59376340#t59376340) that asked for abortion without a character feeling guilty about it or judged by the narrative for their choice.

“Oi,” Krem says softly, peering into Stitches' tent. “Got a thing. You busy?”

“A thing?” Stitches waves at the empty cot, which Krem flops down on while he sets aside his journal of notes.

It's been a quiet night, most of the company taking advantage of the nearby town's taverns, and their gratitude after the Chargers dealt with their varghest problem. Sixty missing livestock, two dead shepherds and one near-miss with a child, and the town had celebrated the bloody end the Chargers had bought to the infestation. Krem would usually be amongst the revellers, impressing people with his ridiculous arms, or encouraging and reeling in the rest of the Chargers in equal measure.

“I'm pregnant,” Krem says, as he folds the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows, because apparently it's second nature to show of his massive forearms, even when it's only Stitches to impress. “Missed a couple of bleeds.”

"Shit, it took?" Stitches asks, staring at Krem. "Even after all the stuff I give you to put hairs on your chest?"

Krem snorts a laugh at that. "The one time you actually _managed_ that, I also couldn't stop hiccuping."

"That'll be the rashvine nettle, irritates the diaphragm," Stitches says, thoughtfully. “I need to adjust the amounts, the nettle is pretty strong. Still. I didn't expect this.”

“My tonics meant to stop me getting knocked up, too?”

“Not by design, but I really thought it would stop conception. Not impossible, obviously. But I wouldn't give what I give you to anyone pregnant, or trying to get pregnant. If the components weren't so hard to get on the road, I'd make up batches of that tonic I was handing out every damn week at Skyhold to keep the lot of us baby free, give you both, make sure this doesn't happen again. Shit, if I just—”

“Hey,” Krem says, lifting a foot and carefully nudging Stitches' knee with it, stopping his worry-blame spiral before it begins. “I'm not blaming you. We've got time before we'd have to do anything drastic, right?”

“Yes,” Stitches nods, because that he can do. Contraceptives and abortifacients are something of a speciality he's developed, playing medic to a rowdy – and horny – company of fifty plus. “So, two bleeds?”

“About nine weeks, I think.” Krem gets this look on his face, slightly dazed and a right stupid grin, like he's remembering the incident and the associated orgasms that landed him here. Stitches, as a medical professional, only rolls his eyes a little bit.

“Lie down, Lieutenant, I'll have a feel. Probably too early, but I might as well.”

Krem takes his shirt right off, and he's about as eager as the Chief to do that, revealing a lot of muscles, a leather and fabric binding vest, and one very ugly tattoo of a wyvern on his bicep. Stitches' matching one is on his leg, which are both better than the one Grim has on his arse.

Stitches presses his fingers into Krem's stomach, feels the tense of the muscles, then digs his fingers in hard.

“Stop flexing,” he chides, and Krem grins at him, but makes no complaint as Stitches palpates his stomach. After a while, he taps his knuckles against the flat front of Krem's binder. “This still comfortable? You taking regular breaks?”

“Yes mother.”

“Don't make it weird,” Stitches says, “we've had sex too many times for you to be calling me 'mother'.”

“Alright, Doctor.”

“I can live with that.” Stitches straightens. “Can feel your womb, but not anything conclusive, mate. Is it just the missed blood you're going on?”

“It's like last time.” Krem reaches for his shirt, and Stitches goes to his ingredients. “Bleeding was the last thing I went on. I'm not regular since we started experimenting with whatever shit you put in those tonics. But I'm sore, a bit sick, like the last time. I'm sure.”

“And you're sure you want me to end the pregnancy?” Stitches asks, though he's pretty sure he knows the answer.

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, if you're positive. You know it's not much fun. Could be fever, vomiting, the shits, and of course bleeding is guaranteed. Although-” Stitches hums, looks away from his powders and jars into the middle distance.

“What're you thinking, Stitches?”

“About a conversation I had with Pavus a few weeks back.”

Krem snorts, and Stitches looks over to see the last of a fond look on his face. He'll probably get punched in the back if he draws attention to the truce-turned-friendship Dorian and Krem have worked out.

“There are magical ways of ending a pregnancy. Spells, potions, a combination of both.”

“Figures.”

“No bleeding, apparently, if you combine it with healing magic. Think Dalish wanted to learn some of it.”

“Just give me the regular poison,” Krem huffs. “It's not a demon spawn that needs magicking out.”

Krem's never been taken on the magic thing, especially when it involves Dorian, who never learned to be ashamed of or reserved in his abilities. Stitches hasn't really got the same problem with it, though they grew up seeing very different sides of mages.

Plus, Dorian is a good source for new medical information, even if he's no doctor. That on top of everything Iron Bull's been able to pass on about the Qun's medicine, and Stitches has things down to a good system.

Stitches measures out ingredients, mixing them in a mug. He knows this recipe by heart, but he consults his journal anyway, to make sure. He's forever modifying things, making notes, improving his trade, to make his healing better.

“Bottom's up,” he says, as he hold out a mug to Krem. The tonic tastes like shit, he knows from testing it himself once, but Krem chugs it gamely.

“ _Venhedis_.” He makes a retching sound, and shudders as he hands back the drained mug.

“You'll start bleeding soon,” Stitches tells him, as he passes him a bag, mostly of cloths to pad out his draws and soak up the blood, but also a small bundle of elfroot cigars for the pain, and a bag of boiled sweets, just because he knows it's going to be a shit time. “If you're still bleeding in two days, or you feel like you're going to pass out come back to me.”

“Cheers.” Krem rolls his shoulders and gets up off the cot.

“I'll come check on you, mate, give you the follow up tonic,” Stitches says. “You're going to be piss poor company for a few days, but don't hit anything. Don't make me put you on bed rest.”

“I'd never hear the end of it from mother dearest,” Krem says, chuckling as he nears the flap of the tent. He pauses, turning back to Stitches. “You can tell the Chief, by the way. If I don’t end up telling him first; he is a worrier.”

Stitches nods. “I'll let you know if it comes up. You should be fine by the time the gang has dried out from celebrating, anyway.”

“I'm good. Night, Stitches.”

“I know you're going to want to hit things with that fucking maul,” Stitches calls after his retreating figure. “Lay off it!”


End file.
